


Boxers or Briefs?

by daisyqiaolianmay (skinman)



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Family, Family Shenanigans, Gen, Humour, Light-Hearted, Philinda - Freeform, Set in Season 3 some point
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-18
Updated: 2015-11-18
Packaged: 2018-05-02 07:23:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5239682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skinman/pseuds/daisyqiaolianmay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the Prompt: "The team is just joking around and asking random questions and Skye asks Coulson boxers or briefs and May just comes in and answers for him and everybody just looks at her."<br/>(W/N: prompt has been altered slightly to fit the story better)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Boxers or Briefs?

**Author's Note:**

> For Writer's reasons the part Skye would have played in this has been replaced by Hunter, because honestly who else would be tactless and bold enough to ask the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D what underwear he wears. However, Daisy is present.

“Blue!” Hunter announced, his face more struck with grief than anger as he burst into the rec room.

Four pairs of eyes moved to regard him critically, trying to decipher his meaning.

“I’m sorry, what?” Mack said, drawing his attention away from his video game and directing it at Hunter, looking over his shoulder at him.

Daisy’s dropped her own controller into her lap and swung her arm over the back of the couch to watch. Both Fitz and Jemma looked up too, mildly surprised by the intrusion, their concentration shifting from the new inhuman blood work they’d been examining at the table in the corner.

“Blue.” Hunter stressed, holding up a slightly crinkled light blue shirt in one hand, and grasping a dark blue denim shirt in the other, waving it around to emphasize his point, “It’s blue!”

He was met with blank stares.

His shoulder’s fell in some form of defeat. He huffed, “It was white this morning. Who the hell put their blue shirt in with my stuff? It’s hard enough getting new kit without people dyeing the stuff I do have.” The man stood there, feet apart, glaring at everyone in turn.

After a tense moment Fitz rose, walked toward Lance, collected the dark blue denim from his grasp, and backed away slowly.

“Oh, com’on Fitz.” Hunter groaned.

“Man, so what? Now it’s blue.” Mack sighed.

“Free dye job.” Daisy quipped.

“You know we should all have our own washing machines.” Hunter muttered to himself as he pottered round to awkwardly dump himself between Mack and Daisy.

“Well,” Jemma scoffed, not bothering to look up from the papers she was shuffling as she talked, “That would be completely impractical.”

“Yeah, but nice I guess… you have no idea how badly I wish I hadn’t seen some of the items in Bobbi’s basket.” An expression of distaste passed over Mack’s features.

Hunter smiled smugly in response, “That part I don’t mind so much.”

Daisy shuddered, “Ew.”

“Jemma’s right though.” Fitz shrugged, the blue button up tucked under his arm as he leaned against the edge of the table Jemma was working at, “Director’s the only one who gets his own.”

“Still,” Daisy wriggled her way out of the squeeze she was trapped in, wedged between Hunter and the arm of the couch, and stood up, “I’d give anything to never have to see a pile of Hunter’s briefs stacked on top of my laundry ever again.”

“Hey, they’re clean!” Hunter protested, then paused a moment, “…usually anyway.”

Mack chuckled lightly at Daisy’s almost comical grimace.

“You know you can tell a lot about a man from his underwear.” Hunter mused, crossing his arms and leaning back into the cushions, “I bet Fitz is a boxers kind of man. The tartan ones I’ve seen are yours I bet. Am I right?” He shot the startled young scientist an expectant look.

Fitz’s mouth fell open a little way. He looked from Hunter to Jemma, lost as to how he should respond. “I’m… uh…”

“Hunter.” Mack grumbled in warning.

That was the moment that Coulson chose to enter, May at his side. They were deep in a hushed, passionate conversation about something or other as the Director moved into the small, open kitchen area to search the cupboards for something.

Hunter decided to tactlessly interrupt, “Ah, Sir! Weigh in on this.”

The rest of the team immediately knew what was coming next, though they hoped they were wrong.

“I can’t watch.” Daisy stressed under her breath, mostly to herself, as she tensed her shoulders in anticipation of what was to come.

“Boxers or briefs?” Hunter said, knelt up on the leather couch, forearms resting on the ridge of it’s back, a glint of humour in his eyes.

Simmons ducked her head to the report she was flicking through, and Fitz bit his lip. They watched as the Director’s expression twisted into one of confusion. He and May turned to regard the man, their private conversation abruptly forgotten.

Daisy clenched her jaw in embarrassment, folding her arms and refusing to look up, staring at her own, boot-clad feet.

Coulson found his voice, his curiosity winning, “Why... is this relevant?”

“What’s your preference sir; boxers? Briefs?” The Merc scrunched up his features as he continued, “Trunks?”

“Oh my god.” Mack shook his head slowly as he dropped it into his hands.

Phil looked perplexed, and rightfully worried, as Hunter gritted his teeth and took another breath, as if he was going to continue, “Jo-”

“Boxers.” Melinda May’s eyes were a little wider than usual as she interrupted, but her mouth returned to a thin line as soon as the words had finished forming. Her tone level. She seemed visibly relieved that her words had managed to silence Hunter, and there was just a small element of something extra there. It might have been rare, guarded playfulness.

The man only gaped in response.

Coulson was hunched over, arms crossed, a deep dent forming between his eyebrows. He seemed the mildest bit amused by how things were unfolding. 

“Okay then...” Daisy whispered, pursing her lips and avoiding both Coulson and May’s eyes as her own lit up.

The rest of the team broke from their adverted gazes and turned them on the director and his second in command; a million questions in their eyes.

“We done here?” There was a knowing quality to Coulson’s tone, though he hid it well. His fingers brushed against May’s elbow as he made to leave, implying that she should come with him. Intimate, like always, but the team read into it a little more this time.

Hunter slid back down the couch as May and Coulson swiftly exited.

“Okay, did you just see what I saw?” Daisy grinned, all but bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“No offense guys but I’ve been calling that since day one.” Hunter shrugged proudly, shooting a fond look at Mack and receiving only an unimpressed stare in return.

Jemma waved away her own assumptions, “Don’t read into it too much Daisy. I mean they’ve known each other a long time.”

“Yeah,” Mack nodded, “chances are she’s happened to see him with his pants off at some point along the line.”

The three Brits looked up to focus on him intently with penetrating gazes, waiting.

It took Mack a second to catch on, “Not…” He stumbled, “No, I mean American pants, as in trousers, Jesus!” He exclaimed, throwing his palms up in defeat.

“Although…” Hunter said, his expression suggestive in nature. He quirked his eyebrow at Mack.

The agent threw his head back against the cushions, exasperated, “Hunter, shut up.”

  
  


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__please follow me at[coulsonskids](http://www.coulsonskids.tumblr.com/) on tumblr! i'm taking prompts_ _

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